


Archmage

by pikestaff



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Blood Elves, Gen, I wasn't gonna write about Rom so soon again but here we are, Legion spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikestaff/pseuds/pikestaff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contains Legion datamining that may count as either a major or minor spoiler depending on how deep you are in the Silvermoon dumpster.  More information about the story found in the opening notes.  What if Rommath had been on the Council of Six?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Archmage

**Author's Note:**

> **POTENTIAL LEGION SPOILERS**
> 
> ===
> 
> So basically someone datamined up Grand Magister Rommath wearing the Kirin Tor tag after his name. And because I'm a gigantic nerd I decided to write a quick story depicting how this may have come about. Obviously the details in the story are all speculation because we have no real details yet, but yeah.
> 
> ===
> 
> UPDATE: Blizzard backtracked on this so it's all AU now. *shrug*

Lor’themar Theron, Regent Lord of Quel’Thalas, drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered the letter he was holding for the umpteenth time that day. He had sat on it and thought about all afternoon, and had even discussed it with Halduron over lunch. Finally, though, he accepted that his gut instinct was right— even if the person who his gut instinct was about wasn’t going to be happy about it.

So through the normal channels— a servant fetching another servant, and the like— Lor’themar summoned Grand Magister Rommath to his personal study.

  
The Grand Magister arrived punctually, as was his usual style. He was, as usual, impeccably clean. His robe was fresh, and his hair was pulled sleekly back into a long ponytail. The robe had a high collar that covered the bottom half of his face if looked at from the back or sides, although his whole face was visible if one looked at him from the front, and this was a face that had seen much and survived even more.

“Regent Lord,” he said with a slight but respectful incline of his head, and he seated himself across from him.

Lor’themar got straight down to business. There were elves whom he could have small talk with. Rommath was not one of them. “Thank you for responding so quickly, Grand Magister. There is something of great import that we must discuss.” He reached over and picked up the letter that he had been thinking about all day. It was stamped with the seal of the Kirin Tor. Rommath saw this but said nothing.

Lor’themar continued. “This morning I received a letter from Archmage Khadgar. As you know, the war in Draenor is finally coming to a close. Khadgar has opted to return to Dalaran and the Kirin Tor, now that his skills are more needed there than on another world, in another time.” Lor’themar unfolded the letter. “He wishes to mend the Council of Six. As you know, there has been an empty spot since, well… I’m sure you know. He would like to rebuild bridges with us, and has…” Lor’themar took a breath. “…extended an invitation to us. He wants to know if any sin’dorei are interested in sitting on the Six.”

Rommath laughed, and Lor’themar was not remotely surprised by this. In fact, he’d been expecting it. “Now they come begging for our assistance, once again,” Rommath said, and he was endlessly amused. “I’m going to assume you told him no.”

“I haven’t told him anything yet,” Lor’themar replied evenly. “I wished to get your opinion on it.”

Rommath leaned forward in his chair. “Dalaran has proven time and time again that they are not our friends. They proved this in the aftermath of the Third War, when they condemned our people to the dungeons for having the gall to want to _not die_. They proved this during the campaigns in Pandaria, when they condemned us to the same fate for the very same reason. We’ve been through this before, Lor’themar. Do you remember? Do you remember when we sent them Aethas Sunreaver, despite my own misgivings? And he would’ve been killed if we hadn’t… if we…” his voice had been rising, but he stopped now to regain his composure. “The point is,” he continued, “That there is absolutely no reason whatsoever to trust them. None. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on _me_.” The solidity and resolve in his voice showed that he had already made up his mind on the matter entirely.

“Rommath…” Lor’themar said. “There is more.”

“Is there? What are they promising us this time?”

Now it was Lor’themar’s turn to lean in closer. “There is something else in this letter. They have not told me all the details, and as such I expect you to not talk of this to anyone else except for myself and Halduron. Are we clear?” He continued without pausing, since he knew that he was. “There is evidence of an impending invasion."

“By whom?”

“The Burning Legion.”

Rommath raised an eyebrow. “What evidence do they have of this?”

“They have not said. But would Khadgar dare hint of this, if it wasn’t a serious possibility?”

Rommath said nothing, and Lor’themar continued, “Dalaran plans on relocating should this come to pass. They are going to need the most powerful mages Azeroth has to offer. That is why Khadgar is reaching out to Quel’Thalas. Now I understand, better than anyone else save maybe yourself, that there have been some serious misunderstandings and misdeeds when it comes to our relationship with Dalaran. But if this all ends up being true, then this is a life and death situation. More so than the Northrend campaigns were. More so than the Pandaren campaigns were. I am sworn to protect Silvermoon, and Silvermoon will be safer with a sin’dorei serving on the Council of Six. I think that, at least, is something you can agree on.”

Rommath did not look particularly happy, but the line that his mouth now formed showed that he understood what Lor’themar was saying. He sighed. “You think we should send Aethas back, then?”

“I don’t know if they would even let him in,” Lor’themar replied, “And besides. Aethas is not the Grand Magister.”

Rommath stood now, so sharply that the chair behind him slid back and almost fell. “Are you suggesting…”

“I am.”

“No.” Rommath pushed his hands down on the table so hard that his arms quivered. “No. I will not go back there.”

“Who else is a greater mage?” Lor’themar rose himself now. “Who else, among us, is a better choice than yourself? Answer me that. Answer me that and if I agree with you then that is the route we will take.”

Rommath breathed in and out harshly. Once or twice he looked as though he was about to blurt out a name before thinking better of it and holding his tongue. After it became clear that he had no answer, Lor’themar said calmly, “Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to ask this of you. I’ve been agonizing over it all day. But you are the greatest mage we have to offer. You are our best line of magical defense against any potential invasion. And you are…” Lor’themar’s expression softened. “…you are one of our most loyal compatriots. I can trust you to always do what is right for Silvermoon. And that is what we are going to need most. Both in Dalaran and in any upcoming war.”

Rommath sighed and sat down. He looked defeated. “I do not wish to leave Silvermoon,” he said softly.

“And I wish you didn’t have to. But you can teleport back any time you wish. And when this is all over, we can see about swapping your position with Aethas, perhaps. Light knows he’s getting restless being stuck here.”

Rommath stared at the wall. He looked as though a million different emotions were running through his head, and he wasn’t happy with any of them. Finally, he asked, “You truly believe this is what is best for Quel’Thalas?”

“I do.”

The Grand Magister was silent for some time. Then he stood. “Then… I will go. I suppose they want me immediately?”

“As soon as you can get there, yes.”

Rommath looked down at the floor for a moment, and then looked up at Lor’themar. “I will prepare my things, then. Tell the Ranger-General…” he paused now, and then he smirked. “No. I’ll tell him myself.” His expression once again turned serious, and he bowed deeply to Lor’themar— deeper than he ever had before, perhaps. “It has been… an honor to serve you.”

Lor’themar bowed in return. “The honor has been mine. I will see you when this is all over. Just remember to stop in for lunch sometimes, will you?”

Rommath smiled rather impishly and held up his hands, teleporting away without saying a word.

**Author's Note:**

> http://pikestaff.tumblr.com/ for more of Pike crawling under the table and crying about elves


End file.
